First Contact

The Lanaktallan Second Wave was a massive undertaking. They targeted 300 worlds across a broad front, each system had hundreds of ship dedicated to wresting the system away from the Terrans and to eliminate the Terrans from the system once and for all.

The best minds of the Unified Military Council had determined that 14% casualties would be sufficient for force the Terrans to surrender.

The First Wave and the anti-coreward section of the Second Wave had met with rousing successes. Resistance was limited, and many on the Unified Military Council believed that the Terrans had made the classic mistake of sending all their ships to combat the Unified Council strength in the Neo-Sapient Systems without guarding themselves.

Planet after planet, system after system, had fallen to the Unified Military Council and the Unified Executor Council's might.

Just how it was supposed to be.

But any human could tell them: If the battle is going easy its because you have ambushed a patrol, not the enemy's strength.

Tenmard's Star was a perfect target as far as the Unified Military Council was concerned. A single energetic young yellow star, three planets in the Green Zone, an asteroid belt full of resources, two gas giants, and four planetary bodies in the red and yellow zones. Two close to the star, two further away.

The Lanaktallan force consisted of 200 ships from the Unified Military Forces, 50 ships from the Unified Corporate Fleets, and 10 vessels from the Unified Executor Fleets. There was over a hundred thousand ground troops, complete with tanks, artillery, intra/exo-atmospheric fighters, and armored vehicles.

The Most High Executor knew that the system had no chance against his might.

The 142nd Fleet dropped out of jumpspace and right on the edge of the resonance zone. The first thing that happened was a nearby buoy began to transmit.

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**Hello, and welcome to Terran Confederacy Territory!**

The Most High of the Fleet, Executor Most High Tanmalo'o, sneered. "Get rid of that annoying thing."

One of the cruisers fired a pair of particle beams.

The scan-tech noted that gravity focused around the buoy and it shifted.

**HEY! Watch it. That isn't how you communicate!**

On the cruiser the gunny master ordered to more shots at it. Each time, it shifted.

**Hey, Asshole! Watch it!**

The gunner master ordered four more shots.

Again, the bouy, nearly 11 light seconds, dodged out of the way.

**Hey, dickheads! Stop shooting at me!**

The gunnery master ordered a full broadside. Again, the buoy danced around on focused gravity.

**OK, that's it. I'm calling my big brother and you assholes are in trouble!**

The buoy seemed to dwindle away and vanish.

The Most High Executor sneered and turned away. "All ships, move in system. We'll take the inhabited worlds one by one and move onto cleaning up the system after the Terrans have been pacified."

For nearly two hours the massive armada moved steadily into the system. Vehicle masters checked out their vehicles, infantry checked their weapons and armor, ship gunnery masters checked the weapons as the ships went to action stations.

As the task force passed the asteroid belt a drive signature lit up, angling toward the fleet on an interception course. Like many Terran vessels it had ridiculously high acceleration, getting within ten light seconds in only minutes.

**OK, who's in charge over there?** was broadcast to all ships.

The Fleet Most High sneered again. "Destroy that annoying thing."

Lasers flickered and missiles shot out. The new object didn't even bother moving, just kept getting closer, the battle-screen flickering as it took the hits. The X-ray lasers created by the focused nuclear explosions and the ship-fired lasers were drained away by the battle-screens and used to add to energy storage.

**There you are. You know that shooting is a provocation and I'm within my rights to shoot back, right, genius?** the object broadcast directly to the Most High's flagship.

The Executor Most High frowned, his tendrils curling and his crests inflating with annoyance.

"Order Squadron Glorious Talon to eliminate that annoyance before it alerts the rest of the system," the Executor Most High harrumphed.

Twelve ships, let by a battle-cruiser, shifted and began firing upon the newest object, which was only the size of a destroyer.

**OK, that's it. My little brother warned you assholes, I warned you assholes. I'm calling the Fleet and... well... heh, you won't see me, but I'll see you**

The Most High Executor snarled at the symbols displaying his fleet, cursing their incompetence, as the larger object twinkled and vanished.

"Most High Executor, we've got drive signatures approaching," the Most High Sensor Technician called out. "Five, ten, no, twenty five signatures. Designating them as Bogey Alpha."

"Twenty-five ships, against my fleet? Bah, we'll sweep them aside and do what we came to do," the Most High Executor snarled, inflating his crests with annoyance.

Minutes passed and the Terran ships vanished off the sensors. The sensor technicians, badgered by their supervisors, tried in vain to get them back.

The Terran ships did reappear, at a range of less than a light hour.

"Most High, the Terrans are messaging us," the Communications Most High said, turning to the Executor Most High. "Shall we respond?"

"No. Let these feral primates bleat for mercy to someone who might feel sympathy for their misbegotten species," the Most High said.

Less than a minute later the viewscreen flickered, the 2D graphic of the system and the various ships vanishing to be replaced by another image.

The Terran was in a heavy seat, the faceplate of an armored vac-suit closed, his armor black with red edging and "CARTER" on the right of the chest and "TCSFN" on the left side of the chest.

"Oh, I think I can make you listen to me," the Terran said softly. The faceplate went transparent, showing a dark skinned Terran with cold cybernetic eyes glaring at the pickup. Several of the Lanaktallan crew drew back in anxiety at the image.

"You are trespassing in Terran Confederate Space. You have not transmitted any recognizable national identification, and as such, you will be treated as a pirate force," the Terran said. The Most High noticed that the image was needle-sharp, as if the Terran was in a vacuum. "Which means," the Terran's lips moved in what the lexicon told the Most High was a smile of pleasure. "No quarter."

"Get this being off my display," the Most High snarled, his tendrils quivering with rage.

The Terran just stared, his face cold and hard, as the Most High Communications officer kept trying to regain control of the main bridge display. Every time he tried his station computer just replied with profanity, pornographic images, or mocking words including a hurtful nickname his older sister had given him.

"You can't make me do anything," the Terran said. "I could rip your ships apart without ever clearing my guns for action. Instead..."

he turned his head slightly. "Execute the fire plan, Guns."

Right as the last syllable was uttered the Most High's ship shuddered and groaned. Multiple impacts on the ship's superstructure warped it, the engines were blown into scrap, the shield not even glimmering with any intercepted weaponry, just a steady pounding.

Ships of the Task Force started to break up, spewing debris, as something kept pounding at them.

"Most High, the impacts are hitting inside the ship!" the Damage Control Officer called out. "They're somehow bypassing our armor and shields!"

The shells kept impacting. Light C+ shells fired from ships nearly a light hour out, a hundred times what his own weapons were capable of.

The Most High's suit com came on and words scrolled across his faceplate right before his ship exploded.

**Told you I was going to get my older brother, asshole**

---------------

Task Force 34 was assigned to leapfrog First Wave into the Terran systems to continue to crush their systems beneath the hooves of the Lanaktallan might. They had stopped long enough to get data uploads from Task Force 11A, which showed that the Terran Confederacy had made the mistake of sending all of their ships into the Neo-Sapient and Uncivilized Species territory, leaving their core systems unguarded.

The task force was made up of just over a hundred ships, all designed to take control of and supress the Terrans found in any system.

The data upload showed that every time the systems begged for mercy, claimed they were peaceful, and then just stopped talking once they were shown that begging would not stay the wrath of the Lanaktallan war machine.

They had pacified or eliminated hundreds of species during their primacy, even defeating the Mantid race. The Terrans had no choice against the Lanaktallan and the progress and success of the First Wave showed that to anyone who cared to look.

TF 34 dropped in at the resonance zone and began moving in-system.

Two outer belts of asteroids in between two gas giants, then four planets, only one inside the Green Zone. Some refinery and extraction facilities in the asteroid belt, but the Most High in charge of TF 34 ignored them. They could be swept up and destroyed after the system's only habitated planet was pacified.

Just inside the orbit of the first planetary body the sensor tech looked up.

"Sire, I have twelve unknown ships at less than ten thousand miles! They just dropped some kind of stealth behind us!" the Second Most High Scanner Tech blurted out.

"Put them on-screen," the Most High said. "Let's see what trash these Terrans have sent to try to stop the righteous strength of the Lanaktallan people."

The ships were decidedly ugly to the Most High. The ship core was flat, with a rounded wedge forward section attached by a narrow umbilicus to the flat rounded body, with two wings off of the main section that had engines attached. They were dark green, with red running lights.

They looked clumsy to the Most High.

"They are attempting to open a communications channel," the Communications specialist said. "They've transmitted a lexicon."

"Very well, let's listen to these primitive primates beg for mercy from our ancient civilization," the Most High sneered.

The beings that appeared didn't look like humans. Bipeds, yes. Hair on their heads, yes. But their skin was dark brown, they had ridges on top of their heads, their faces were flat with prominent noses and mouths full of sharp teeth.

Before the Most High could speak the creature onscreen spoke.

"I am Dipaq of House Vrat, Commander of the Negh'Var-class ship IKS Hammer of Vengeance, this system is under the protection of the Klingon Empire," the figure barked out, the translation appearing across the bottom of the screen rather than translating the words to civilized speech. "Declare your reasons for your ship presence in this system or be destroyed."

The Most High sneered. "I am Most High Executor Gretalo'o, commander of this task force you see before you. Surrender and be destroyed."

The beings on screen laughed.

"Glory to one of our houses then," the being said. He made a motion and the screen went blank.

"Most High, the Terrans, they're breaking formation and accellerating! It looks like attack runs!" the Most High Sensor tech said.

"Bah, their weapons are primitive, we have no..." the Most High started to say.

That's when the disruptor cannon hit the back of his ship, collapsing the ship's battle-screens, ripping through armor and deep into the ship's vitals.

Gretalo'o found himself thrown against the restraining straps as his ship started flipping end over end.

Torpedoes launched blew ships into splinters. Heavy disruptor banks shattered armor and ripped ships apart.

When the first attack run ended, the ships vanished into stealth for only a few minutes before reappearing behind the panicking Lanaktallan ships, opening fire again.

It took four attack runs for the Lanaktallan task force to be reduced to vapor and wreckage.

On the bridge of his ship, his pride and joy, Commander Dipaq turned to his communications officer.

"Tell Sisko-89371 that the cowtaurs tried their hand in this system and we have brought glory unto our house," he ordered, picking up an engraved chalice and sipping at the spiced blood wine.

"And their life pods?" his Executive Officer asked.

Dipaq sneered. "Let us show them the mercy they have shown the people of Harmony."

His expression grew cruel. "Show them Klingon Mercy."

-----------------

Task Force 271 was heading deep into Terran Space, one of the furthest targets into Confederate Space that the Executor Council had authorized. They'd been in the upper reaches of Jumpspace for nearly a month, traveling thousands of times the speed of light. It wasn't easy to keep six hundred ships together in jumpspace, but the navigators had done an excellent job and jumpspace sensors tied the whole fleet together.

Which is why the sudden impact that threw Most High Untara'a onto the floor of his cabin came as such a sudden shock. He heard his ship creak and groan as the hyperalloys were stressed. He scrambled up, reflexes having him pulling on his vac-suit as quickly as possible.

Sirens were going off when he touched the communicator, connecting him to the bridge where the Fifth Most High was on duty.

"Report," Untara'a snapped.

"Something massive dropped us out of jumpspace. Our sensors reported that a gravity shadow appeared and the jumpspace conduit collapsed, dropping us into real space," the Fifth Most High said. "Our sensors are scrambled but it looks like our fleet dropped completely. The ship's VI went offline a few moments ago, we're basically drifting."

"I'm on my way," Untara'a said.

The whole way to the bridge lights kept dimming and brightening, flickering, turning off or on. Displays kept coming and displaying gibberish before turning off. Speakers howled or chattered garbled sounds. It took three tries for the elevator to arrive. Twice the elevator stopped, once it started going down, and once it went up so fast that Untara'a almost went to his knees.

When the elevator finally deposited him on the bridge his tendrils were tight and his crests were inflated. The bridge was chaos. Lights flickering, turning off for a moment before turning back on, lights exceeding their normal brightness. Computer displays were showing garbage, sometimes streams of letters and numerals, other times choppy clips of videos or pictures, or screaming chattered bits of sound files.

"Most High, we've lost control of all systems, the computers aren't responding!" the Fifth Most High reported. "We have no idea about the status of the rest of the Task Force!"

"Hmph. Each being, reset your consoles manually," the Most High ordered, moving over and taking his place in his cradle.

He watched as each computer was reset.

They just stayed dead. No data display.

One by one all the systems went down, even the computers that hadn't been touched yet.

Even the ship's virtual intelligence remained offline.

Despite the Most High's demands, everything stayed turned off.

Long minutes went by until suddenly a dot of bluish white appeared on the middle of the main bridge display. It started pulsing, getting bigger with each pulse, until it suddenly flashed rapidly and transformed into a strange face made of bluish white code. It was hard edged, with two eyes of bright blue, the edges chrome and sharp looking.

"I am the Engine," the face said without moving its mouth. It spoke in perfect Lanaktallan. "I have examined and are assimilating your culture. Do not attempt to flee. You will be identified."

"Get this thing off my display," Most High Untara'a ordered.

"How, Most High?" the Display Tech Third Class asked. He pointed at his work station: "My terminal is inoperative."

"You are species designation Lanaktallan," the face said again. "Hostile Species in service to a hostile government."

There was silence again.

"You are slated for termination."

There was an audible inhale by everyone on the bridge.

"You are allowed one plea per ship."

Everyone looked at the Most High, who drew himself up. "Show yourself!"

The screen cleared to show a black orb floating in the space between stars. The screen blinked and the chrome and blue-neon face showed up again.

"You have now seen me. Do you wish to enter a plea for continued existence?" the face asked.

"You do not have authority over this ship or my subordinates! Release us at once!" the Most High said.

"Your plea, combined with evidence of genetic and biological warfare technologies aboard your ships, have been rejected. You now have sixty seconds to perform whatever death rituals your people observe," the face said.

The screen went black, leaving everyone in the dark.

Untara'a tried to turn on his suit lights, but his suit wasn't responding. It was starting to get hot in his vac-suit. He opened his visor in time to hear the warning that the ship's atmosphere was venting. He slapped his visor shut.

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Within a few minutes Untara'a realized that his suit's environmental system wasn't working, that he was stuck with what little air was just inside the suit. It got hot, and hard to breathe.

He passed out, and eventually suffocated.

The ships just sat in space. Dead. Their computer systems all shut down. Their ships VI snuffed out.

The Engine went back to monitoring jumpspace in a five hundred light year span around himself.

It was his duty.